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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326728">Last Period Class</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_ID/pseuds/Anonymous_ID'>Anonymous_ID</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Absent Parents, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Impregnation, M/M, Mpreg, Nipple Play, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean, Omega/Omega, Sexual Inexperience, Students</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:40:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_ID/pseuds/Anonymous_ID</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the SPN kink meme prompt: Something a lot of kids don’t know is that an Omega can get another Omega pregnant. Dean and Cas are both thirteen or so and they’re fooling around. They both end up pregnant.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Supernatural Kink Meme</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cas knows you can’t get pregnant from your first time.   <em>Everyone </em>knows that, Dean had said, rolling his eyes.  So Cas had nodded like, yeah, of course.  Obviously.  “You’d have to fuck for, like, weeks,” Dean had been authoritative and dismissive at the same time, throwing his feet in their busted sneakers onto the detention room desk as casually as if it were his living room.  “And I mean real fucking.”  He glanced over at Cas then, smiled teasingly when he sees how the verb has made Cas blush.  “I mean a knot. An Alpha.” </p><p>Studying his reflection in the ornate antique mirror of his bathroom, Cas touches the faint finger-bruises on his sharp skinny hips, lets his palm drift to his flat belly. He’d felt Dean in there just a few days ago. Dean is big for an omega, so really it’s no wonder Cas feels a little sore. And sure, his nipples are kind of pink and puffy, but that’s just because Dean had arched up under him and suckled while they’d…while they’d fucked.  Now it is Cas’s turn to stifle a smirk, even though there’s no one to see him.  He plucks his neatly ironed school shirt from the hanger where the housekeeper always leaves it. Cas buttons it over his tender chest.  He’d liked it, with Dean.  Fucking.  But it hadn’t been <em>real</em>.  He’s not—he couldn’t be.  Not from just one time, with another omega.   </p><p>***</p><p>Until about eight weeks ago, Castiel had never been to detention.  He didn’t even know where the detention room was; one of the secretaries from the school office had to show him to the old classroom at the end of a little-used hallway.  He has just enough time to survey the row of old desks and poke into the small adjoining supply room before the second student enters: Dean Winchester.  Father says it is wrong to lay wages, but Cas would bet he has no trouble finding the detention room. </p><p>Cas’s school is very expensive and very disciplined.  It has its pick of students from the best families, both Alphas and omegas, although the breeds are, of course, very strictly segregated after the eighth form.  No one knows how Dean Winchester ended up amongst their ranks, but there are whispers about favors done and obligations owed and something about an exorcism. There’s another Winchester, younger, but he’s meek and a good student and could almost pass if it weren’t for his big, rough brother.  Dean is always <em>mostly</em> in uniform—never the school tie, rarely the right shoes—and he scrapes by on tests but won't turn in homework.  Also, he has twice been found on an Alpha hallway unsupervised.  Normally, that would be enough to get any omega shunned as a slut, but Dean didn’t have any close friends to shun him, so none of the students had known what to do about it except to speculate about what he had been up to.</p><p>Dean slings himself into one of the chairs and stretches.  His uniform shirt, barely tucked in the first place, comes loose.  Cas glimpses a sliver of skin and immediately averts his eyes, staring blankly at the chalkboard.</p><p>“S’up?”</p><p>Cas’s mouth is Sahara-dry.  He wonders for a second if they’re allowed to talk…and then remembers that he is not actually in detention.  “Uhm.  Not much.  How are you today?”</p><p>Dean raises one eyebrow at Cas’s formal tone.  “Me?  I’m just dandy.”</p><p>A silence settles over the room.  Cas has his bookbag with him.  He could get started on his math homework.  Instead, he hears himself say, “I’m not in detention, you know.”</p><p>“No? Well, good for you.” Dean’s voice is totally incurious, but not exactly mean.  Somehow, given the rumors surrounding him, Cas had always thought he would be.</p><p>“I just.  My Father didn’t sign the permission slip.  For, uh, sex ed.  So I had to leave the class. But it’s not my fault.”</p><p>“Never said it was.”</p><p>More silence.  And then Dean says, “My Dad is out of town. I don’t think he even saw the permission slip.”</p><p>Cas perks up.  He’s not the only student who failed to get his parent’s permission for the sex ed health unit? The permission slip, his Father’s refusal to sign (“Hardly necessary, Castiel, don’t you agree?  I’m not sending you to that school to talk about fornication”) has been weighing on his mind.  Castiel likes to please people, hates to be a problem.  It had been humiliating to be sent to the office with a note from his homeroom teacher saying that all the other students had been assigned to a “health study discussion group” and that there was no place for Castiel. The school relegated sex ed to the last period of the day on Fridays, starting in the ninth form.   Alphas and omegas are separated, naturally, and then each homeroom is divided into small discussion groups, so virtually every teacher and every classroom is filled.  What is the school to do with one student when all the others were accounted for?  The permission slip—<em>I [parent name] agree to allow my student [name] to participate in the health unit that addresses maturation and sexual health, including topics such as…</em>—is a formality.  Every student snickers over it, but every parent signs. Well, almost every parent. </p><p>The detention room was the best solution anyone could come up with at short notice and Cas is gratified to realize he is not alone, even if his company is going to be Dean Winchester.</p><p>“My Father is away a lot, too,” Cas says quietly.  “He’s very busy.”  There’s no response from Dean.  Maybe Cas shouldn’t have said that.  It’s not like he wants Dean to think they have anything in common or anything.  Cas waits. Nothing.  He finally sneaks a glance over his shoulder to Dean’s corner.  The other omega is fast asleep on his desk, head pillowed on folded arms.  The detention room is dim, but the supply room has tall windows nearly overgrown with leaves and a shaft of greenish light spills over all the desks in that back row.  Dean bites his lip in his sleep. Cas wonders if he’s dreaming.  He has a spray of freckles right over his nose, Cas can’t help but notice.</p><p>The final bell rings fifteen minutes later, startling Cas.  His eyes snap to the clock over the blackboard. Where had the time gone?  Well, it had taken nearly an hour before the office staff determined that he really didn’t have a permission slip, another thirty minutes to determine that the detention room was the only space not already colonized by one of the health discussion classes.  And then he’d spent... kind of a while, maybe a long while, watching Dean Winchester sleep.  He looks back at Dean, who hasn’t moved a muscle, except to open his eyes.  They’re a greeny-hazel color.  Cas blinks and forces himself to stand up and gather his bookbag. Dean, of course, doesn’t have a bookbag or a notebook or anything.  He just unfolds himself from his chair, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand. </p><p>“So, uhm.”  Cas tries to decide what to say:  nice meeting you?  See you next week?  Good luck with that permission slip?</p><p>Before he can decide, Dean gives him a friendly grin and sketches a salute and he strolls out the door and into the weekend.  “Stay cool, Cas,” he calls, voice resonant in the empty hallway.  Cas hadn’t known Dean Winchester even knew his name.</p><p>***</p><p>The next week, Cas finds himself trying to spot Dean at morning assembly or during lunch.  But Cas is mostly in advanced classes and Dean is—not. So they aren’t in the same space until last period Friday, when Cas arrives at the detention room to find Dean already there.  Cas feels his heartrate jump just looking at him.  Must be because Dean looks almost like an Alpha, broad and muscled, not pale and skinny like Cas, a classic omega.  You almost wouldn’t know, looking at Dean, not when he’s slouched in his chair, feet on the desk opposite.  He looks relaxed and powerful and totally comfortable in his own skin.</p><p>Cas has been getting <em>urges</em>, lately.  Just sometimes, like when he’s in geometry class, where the window near his desk looks out on the playing fields and he can see the Alphas running laps around the sports field.  All sweaty, panting breaths steaming the air, firmly muscled limbs bared by their gym uniforms.  Cas had a dream a few days ago where he left the detention room during last period and he’d gone down the long main corridor and then down the forbidden Alpha hallway to a locker room.  He’s never been in one, of course, but he’d known with the certainty of dreams just what it would be like to put his palms on the roughly vanished door and push into the steamy shower room fill of eager Alphas.  He’d woken with a start—in bed, naturally, not being ravished by a half-dozen Alphas, but his little cocklet had been thick and leaking nevertheless. </p><p>Omegas don’t do sports after they graduate from the eighth form.  They won’t need to run or hunt.  There are <em>other</em> kinds of exercises, Cas understands vaguely, exercises to help breeders stretch and open. His classmates' whispers now don't concern Dean Winchester, but rather the secret omega-only knowledge shared in that first sex ed class. Inside jokes. It has only been a week, but already Cas feels ignorant compared to the others.  It is not a feeling he is used to.  He doesn't like being left out. It’s not that he was ever popular, but now for the first time he feels definitively excluded.  He wonders if that’s how Dean feels all the time. He wonders...</p><p>“What do you suppose they learn about?”</p><p>Dean looks over at him.  “Who?”</p><p>“The students.  The ones who take the class.”  Cas clarifies.  Because he and Dean are students, too, in their own little class of two.   </p><p>Dean shrugs.  “Kissing. Babies.  How to mind ‘em, in the omega classes.  How to make ‘em, in the Alpha classes.  I was in one class, three schools ago, they had all the omegas carry around sacks of flour, pretending they were babies.  Didn’t get the point, myself.”</p><p>“Is it…hard?”</p><p>Dean looks puzzled.  “Carrying a bag of flour?”</p><p>Blushing, Cas realizes he hadn’t really been listening to much beyond Dean’s first few word.    “No! Uhm.  Kissing.” Cas rushes ahead, afraid he’ll lose his nerve and never get an answer to his questions.  “I don’t—I haven’t.  I don’t think I’ll be any good at it and I just, I like to know what to expect, I get nervous if I don’t know, uh, what to…”</p><p>Dean doesn’t interrupt, just lets him talk until he sputters to a stop. “You’ll be fine,” he says, and Cas feels warmth blooming in his chest.</p><p>“Yeah?” Cas hardly dares to ask for more, but Dean seems to know what reassurance he needs.</p><p>“Sure.  S’not nearly as complicated as they make it sound, like you need to take a class or something.  Kissing is easy.”</p><p>“Oh.  So you’ve—you’ve kissed a lot of Alphas, then?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, Alphas and omegas, both,” Dean says expansively.  “Dozens.”</p><p>“You’re not…worried?  About,” Cas lets his voice drop, even though he’s pretty sure no one in the building even remembers the two little omegas sent off to the detention room.  “About getting pregnant?”</p><p>Dean had laughed, and it was such a silly, joyful sound that Cas didn’t even feel Dean was laughing at him.  “Can’t get pregnant from kissing,” Dean had announced. “And you’re not gonna get pregnant your first time.  Everyone knows that.  You’d have to fuck for, like, weeks.”</p><p>Cas had tried to scoff knowingly.  “Well, sure.  Everyone knows <em>that</em>,” he echoed </p><p>Dean had looked at him then suddenly serious. “Don’t worry about it, Cassie.  You’ll make some Alpha real happy someday.”</p><p>The certainty in his voice pleases Cas as much as hearing his nickname: he’s never had a nickname before, not really.  “Are you sure?  I don’t think I’ll be much good at—” he can’t do it, he can’t say <em>fucking</em> in school, in the very expensive school where his Father is sending him specifically not to talk about fornication. “Kissing,” he finishes, lamely.</p><p>“Aww, c’mere,” Dean says, shaking his head.</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“Come here.  No, never mind, I’ll come over there.”  And before Cas knows what is going on, Dean has vaulted over the intervening desk, shoved Cas’s bookbag to the floor, and seated himself opposite.  This close, Cas can see the hazel flecks in his eyes, the constellation of freckles he’d noticed on their first day.  Dean’s tongue darts out, drawing Cas’s attention to his lips.  They’re pink and pretty and Cas can’t look away.  Dean’s breath is warm and steady and getting closer, closer…</p><p>Cas’s eyelids drop shut a split second before he feels the sweet, wet heat of Dean’s mouth pressed against his.  Dean’s lips are just a little rough, slightly chapped, but gentle.  Something probes softly, retreats, advances again—Dean’s tongue, and Cas opens for it, letting his own tongue slip between their mouths.  Dean is smiling; Cas can tell, he can feel it even before his eyes pop open when Dean sucks on his lower lip.  Cas isn’t sure how long they kiss, he only knows that by the time they finally pull apart, his mouth is tingling and Dean’s is swollen and they are breathing in synch.</p><p>They look at each other for a long moment, two feet apart in their identical desks.  Then Dean says, “See?  You’re a natural. I told’ya.  Nothing to it, Cassie,” and Cas has to laugh.</p><p>“My Father says I’m too young.  To think about Alphas.” he confides, when his glee has settled into a pleasant glow.  He’s a good kisser.  Dean has all but told him so.  There’s nothing to worry about, and Cas hadn’t realized how relieved he is until the stress has evaporated under Dean’s mouth.</p><p>Dean looks at him steadily, and then reaches over to move the one dark curl that always sneaks onto Cas’s forehead no matter how carefully he combs his hair for morning inspection.  “You can think about whatever you want, " he says stoutly. "And you're not so young. We’re the same age.  Plus, you’re really pretty,” he adds, matter-of-factly.  “I bet you’ll have lots of Alphas who want to breed you up.”</p><p>Cas looks down at his shoes; he’s suddenly shy.  Vanity is a sin, but Dean had been so straightforward about it, like Cas’s appearance is just a fact.  <em>You’re pretty, too,</em> Cas intends to say, because it’s true—Dean’s eyes and freckles and smile.  But what comes out it: “Really? You think so?”</p><p>“For sure.  You’ll be beating em off with a stick.  No pun intended.”</p><p>Cas doesn’t understand—there was a pun?—but he’s too giddy to care.  “Can we—again?  Can we, uh, kiss some more?”</p><p>They kiss until the bell rings, by which time they’ve ended up wedged onto the same chair, Cas squirming nearly in Dean’s lap with his fingers fisted in Dean’s shirt-tails, untucked as always. </p><p>Cas hears himself whining needily as they pull apart.  There’s the distant-avalanche sound of two hundred schoolboys being dismissed for the day, but somehow that seems very far away from the quiet of the detention room. “Don’t wanna stop,” he says, ready to laugh it off if Dean wants to.  But Dean is looking at him very seriously.  “There are,” Dean bites his delicious lower lip, like he almost hesitates to say it.  “There are other places you can kiss.”  And his eyes drop to the thick bulge in his uniform trousers.  Cas’s mouth automatically fills with saliva.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It turns out that even Dean Winchester isn’t bold enough to go bare-assed in the detention room.  But the little supply room off to the side is another story entirely. Cas had explored it the first day, not that there was much to see.  He suspects the detention room had originally been a biology lab, maybe botany.  The little storage closet opposite the main door is narrow and empty, now, except for a long, sturdy lab table and a shelf of dusty terra cotta pots. One whole wall is made up of steel-framed windows, but they are nearly overgrown with the ivy that covers the exterior of the school.  Dean saunters into the storage room and Cas hustles after him, closing the hallway door and gathering up his backpack and winter coat (Dean doesn’t seem to own either).   They leave the storage room door artfully cracked a few inches—nothing to see here!  The classroom will look empty in the unlikely event that anyone walks down the hallway. </p><p>Inside the storage room, in the aqueous autumn light filtering through the ivy, things are as private as they can be.</p><p>Dean hoists himself up to sit on the lab table, his feet dangling. “You wanna..?” Before he’s even finished the question, Cas has stepped between his spread knees and pressed a kiss to his mouth, shutting him up.</p><p>When Dean’s thighs tighten around Cas’s hips, Cas’s kisses get sloppy—Dean’s dimple, the corner of his jaw, the Adam’s apple that jumps under his tongue with Dean gasps, “Fuck, Cassie!” </p><p>Cas pulls back, blushing, ashamed at his eagerness.   Dean must think he’s a complete…</p><p>There’s no time to speculate on what Dean must think, though, because the other omega has grabbed Cas’s school tie and pulled him back in for another, deeper kiss.</p><p>Cas doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but when Dean’s hand presses down on his shoulders, gentle but relentless, he drops to his knees.  Dean keeps one hand combing through Cas’s hair while the other undoes his belt, shoves his clothing down his thighs.  His cock—the first one Cas has seen that isn’t his own—is thick and red, hard enough that the head peeks out of the foreskin.  Alphas, Cas knows, are cut, but Dean looks both different and reassuringly familiar.</p><p>Dean actually shudders, the long muscles of his legs tensing under Cas’s pressing palms. When Cas realizes what causes the reaction, he rakes a deep breath and gusts it out over Dean’s dick. Dean gasps again and the fingers in Cas’s hair tighten. </p><p>Cas still doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s <em>definitely</em> doing it. His tongue touches the pink tip of Dean.  There’s a salty-sour burst of flavor and Cas remembers the way he had spilled onto his own belly, tugging furtively at his dick under the sheets because he had dreamed of Alphas.  An Alpha would make more fluid, a lot more, and it would soak an omegas insides and fill them with babies. Cas doesn’t understand the precise mechanics—he’ll have to ask Dean for details, later—but he does have the basic idea.  Omegas must not make enough fluid; maybe that’s why they carry babies instead of breed them? Dean certainly isn’t making enough to fill Cas, but Castiel wants it all anyway. He takes the whole head of Dean’s cock into his mouth.  (“Oh, oh, fuck, teeth—teeth! Cas!” Dean pants above him, and then, when Cas is a little more mindful of his dentition, “yeah, so good, Cassie”).  He is just beginning to explore the foreskin with his tongue as he considers how much of Dean’s thick shaft he could swallow when Dean’s hips pump under his hands.  Dean pulls sharply at Cas’s hair and Cas is already apologizing when the first spurt lands on his cheek. It doesn’t seem like <em>not enough</em>, now.</p><p>Dean licks it off, afterward, off Cas’s chin and his cheek, cleaning all the thick cream that would make babies if only he were an Alpha.  “You’ra natural, Cas,” Dean slurs.  “Gonna do you so good. Can feel how hard you are. Lemme…” He leans into Cas until they both end up in a tangle on the floor, giddy and giggling.  He tugs at Castiel’s shirt, neatly tucked in, unlike his own.  But it would be too much, Cas knows.  Too much after all of today to have someone else—to have Dean’s mouth on him.  He can’t think how to explain it to Dean, but he doesn’t have to.  Their fingers tangle on Cas’s belt buckle. </p><p>“No, don’t,” Cas gasps and Dean freezes. </p><p>“You don’t want me to, uh…?”</p><p>Cas shakes his head, sure that Dean will pull up his trousers and stomp off at the rejection. </p><p>But Dean doesn’t.  Just rolls his eyes, fondly, and settles next to Cas on the floor. “I told ya, ‘can’t get pregnant just from touching.”</p><p>Cas just shakes his head again.  He is pretty sure that what they are doing goes beyond <em>touching, </em>but he’s less worried about pregnancy than he is about the sudden intimacy of having Dean’s mouth on him.  He both wants it and fears it and he doesn’t know what to say. His pulse is throbbing—he can feel it in his dick, in his fingertips,</p><p>Quick dry press of lips to Cas’s cheek. “Sure.  Whatever you want.  I could just…”  Dean blinks, bites his lip the way that Cas realizes he loves.  “Hold you?”</p><p>And he does: straightens his clothes and sits up against the leg of the lab table and snugs Cas’s back against his chest.  He tugs at Cas’s collar until his tie loosens enough that he can kiss the skin where his neck meets his shoulder.  Cas shoves his own hand down his trousers, finds his dick smaller and slimmer than Dean’s, but just as hard as his had been.</p><p>“How’s he do it?” he asks, letting his fingers trail up the shaft the way he likes.</p><p>“Mmm?”  Dean hums into the curve of his jaw.</p><p>“An Alpha.  How’s he…”</p><p>“Knock up an omega?”  Dean finishes, reliably crude and omniscient.</p><p>Cas nods, too shy to actually say those words.</p><p>“He puts his dick up the omega’s ass.”</p><p>For a second, Cas thinks Dean must be joking.  Surely he’s—there is no way anything would ever…</p><p>“Are you--sure?” he squeaks.</p><p>“Yup.  How’d you think it happened?”</p><p>Cas shrugs. “Guess I hadn’t really thought about it,” he admits, knowing that Dean won’t laugh at him for it.  He’d just figured that was some knowledge that became apparent after awhile, maybe when he was old enough.  He leans into Dean’s chest, thinks he’s old enough.  </p><p>“Mmm,” Dean hums again.  “There’s a spot, up inside.”  He hand, curved around Cas’s waist, sneaks under the edge of his shirt. “An Alpha’s cock is big enough that he hits it pretty much every time he moves and it feels so good his omega just spreads open for him.”  Dean’s fingertips are describing little circles on Cas’s belly, right above his hip, moving faster and faster in time with Cas’s hand jerking his own dick. His voice in Cas’s ear is low and rich as he spins his dirty fairytale. “And the Alpha’s got a lot of seed in his balls and he spills it up into the omega, all the way, deep inside, hot.”  There are some more words after that, but Cas’s hearing sort of whites out when his orgasm hooks in behind his belly button and makes him arch and spurt. </p><p>Castiel lets Dean tuck him away, button him up, straighten his tie.    All he can do is blink up at the taller omega.</p><p>“Sure your dad won’t be mad that you’re late?”</p><p>Cas cannot imagine calling Father “Dad,” cannot imagine him noticing if Cas leaves school a half-hour later than usual.  “He’s won’t care.  He’s really busy, he has to go out of town the week after ne—oh, your brother!”</p><p>Dean shakes his head.  “Sammy can take care of himself; he’s a smart kid.”</p><p>“Oh.  Okay, then.”  Cas wants to kiss him goodbye, before they leave their little room to sneak out the side door, but he’s afraid if he starts, he’ll never be able to stop.  “See you next week?”</p><p>“You betcha,” Dean gives him a sunny grin.  “And next Friday, last period? I’ll teach you something new.”</p><p>***</p><p>There are more urges over the next week, more intense, burning hotter.  And other changes.  Cas wakes up leaking and hard two morning in a row.  And his—his chest…</p><p>“It’s fine,” Dean reassures him the next Friday, when Cas gets up the nerve to ask. Without fanfare, Dean had undone four buttons on Cas’s school shirt and slid his hand in. “Supposed to happen that way.  You’re just developin’, is all. Happens faster in some omegas.”</p><p>There is a new softness, a slight swelling under the skin, his nipple hardens when Dean touches it, but the area around it stays puffy and tender. Dean pushes all around the nipple with his thumb; Cas feels a dizzy warmth surging through his chest.  He is sitting perfectly still on the lab bench, but gasping for breath like he’s run a mile.</p><p>Dean looks at him, a thoughtful crease between his eyebrows.  “Um, can I…?”</p><p>“Yes,” Cas says immediately, not even waiting to hear what Dean wants.  “Yes, yeah.  Please.”</p><p>Dean undoes one more button. Today, after Father’s chauffeur had dropped him at the school gates, Cas had impulsively pulled off his school tie and stuck it in his pocket.  Third period, for the first time ever, he’d been reprimanded for being out of uniform. It was worth it, though, for the easy way the shirt fabric slides to bare him now.  Dean ducks his head, glancing up at Cas through his eyelashes, holding his gaze as he brings his mouth to Cas’s nipple. </p><p>Castiel shivers at the brush of Dean’s lips and gasps at the wetness of his tongue.  Dean’s hands press against his shoulder blades, cradling, holding him still so Dean can kiss across Cas’s chest to the other side, which is somehow even more sensitive. </p><p>“Okay?” Dean mutters, breath warm, and Cas realizes he must have made some kind of stifled noise without meaning to.</p><p>“Mmm,” is all Cas can manage verbally, but he tucks his fingers around the nape of Dean’s neck and Dean gets the message, suckles harder.</p><p>Cas dreams every night now—Alphas, knots, Dean’s mouth—and wakes up hard and empty.  The other omegas leave their sex ed syllabi lying around, casually flaunting, and he’d caught a glimpse of one of the sex ed syllabus last week and noticed a whole unit called “heat.”  He <em>does</em> feel constantly flushed, almost feverish. He’s surprised no one else seems to notice, but maybe this burning is not visible to others, that maybe it is happening <em>inside</em>. Dean doesn’t complain about anything similar, but Cas suspects Dean doesn’t complain about much of anything.</p><p>The heat comes in waves accompanied by dizziness and distraction.  Usually, Cas is his normal self.  But sometimes, he will suddenly realize that his teacher has been talking for minutes at a time while he’s been thinking about the fingertips of the boy sitting next to him, the way they curl around his chewed-up ballpoint.    Friday, he is so lost in the sensation that he only pulls away from Dean’s lips when the final bell rings.  The sound startles Cas as though from a deep sleep and he nearly slips off Dean’s lap.  (When, exactly, had he straddled Dean?)  Dean, hair ruffled, lips swollen, looks equally surprised to find that they are still in the detention room. Cas blinks at him.  His nipples are pink and spit-slick but for the first time all week, they don’t ache. </p><p>“Hey,” he says, dumbly, like they’ve just met. </p><p>Dean smiles at him: “Hey.”</p><p>***</p><p>That’s the pattern for most of October.  Fridays, about halfway through last period when it is clear that every student and teacher in the school is occupied with their sex ed group, Cas and Dean will block the detention room door with a desk and retreat to the supply closet.  They jerk off together, or Cas gets on his knees for Dean. One week, they do nothing but kiss.  Another time, when Cas hints that he is sore, Dean spends a half-hour gently sucking his nipples.   </p><p>Halloween falls on a Friday and Cas comes dressed as a ghost.  It’s a dumb costume, the best he could come up with at the last minute on his own (“Halloween is a pagan holiday, Castiel,” Father had said, “Do we really need to discuss it further?”).  Father is not, Cas wasn’t about to skip a rare school-sanctioned opportunity to ditch the uniform.  Dean doesn’t bother with a costume…but then, he barely bothers with a uniform, so maybe the appeal is less.   Two layers of fabric is at least one too many for Dean’s roving hands: somehow Cas ends up  with his trousers around his ankles, laying on the lab bench, Dean’s big hand working Cas’s cock under the ghost-white sheet.  Dean sips kisses from his lips when Cas comes and holds him until he’s truly soft, but instead of reaching for a piece of clothing to clean him off, his hand slips between Cas’s thighs.  To—to…Cas can feel his hole twitch under Dean’s seeking fingertips.  He knows Dean feels it too, because he smiles against Cas’s lips, kisses him deeper.   </p><p>Cas has touched himself there, in the weeks since Dean had casually mentioned how babies are made.  He’d started furtively in the shower. Once he’d discovered he could take a whole finger, then two, with lots of soap and barely a hitch in his breathing, he’d been more bold under his bedclothes.  Recently, he’s taken to bypassing his cock entirely and circling his hole with one hand while he plucks his nipples with the other.  He’d surprised himself by orgasming like that once, but it had been a Friday afternoon after school, so he’d been pretty wound up to start with.</p><p>“Okay?” Dean mutters between kisses.  It is always okay, but he always asks.  Cas has wondered if an Alpha would be so considerate.  Such a lucky thing, getting this chance to practice with Dean, who is so patient and so gentle and so safe.</p><p>Cas nods, because it is, but he turn his face away, embarrassed, to confess, “Yeah, but.  Uhm.  Careful.  I get, uh.  Wet? Sometimes?”</p><p>Dean noses along his throat.  “Me, too.  Supposed to, omegas.”</p><p>The warmth that floods through Cas is relief, not heat.  He’d thought—well, not that there was something wrong, exactly.  But that surely there was something…not right? Because he gets <em>wet</em>: slick, almost dripping.  But Dean doesn’t seem concerned, whispers sweet praise when Cas is slick enough to take his finger. And if Dean says it is okay…</p><p>“Two,” Cas pants.  Dean looks so impressed that Cas whimpers through a second finger and finally comes again—a weak, pleasurable spurt—just as Dean eases in a third fingertip.   Then Dean ceremonially folds back the sheet and licks Cas’s belly clean.</p><p>“I haven’t found the spot, though,” Cas explains, combing meditatively through Dean’s hair when the other omega settles him into his lap.  “The one you told me about.  Maybe I don’t have one.”</p><p>“You’re fine,” Dean assures him.  “Perfect.”</p><p>The next Friday, after Cas has sucked an orgasm right out of him, Dean turns and leans over the lab table, his ass displayed between the sagging school trousers and the sweatshirt he’s wearing instead of the regulation blazer.  “You wanna try me?  Look for that spot?”</p><p>Cas hasn’t thought of doing that with another omega; usually when he fantasizes about Dean (which is frequently, these days), he’s thinking about Dean’s mouth on his chest, or the way his thighs tremble when he’s about to come, or the curl of his tongue inside Cas’s mouth.  But he’s pretty sure <em>Dean </em>wants him to try, so he quickly agrees.</p><p>Dean gets wet, but not really wet, and the muscles of his back tense when Cas first thumbs his hole.  They don’t relax until Cas kisses him there, which startles a noise out of Dean.  Then he gets wetter, enough to take one finger, achingly slow.  When he turns to look over his shoulder, he has tears in his eyes and there’s nothing else for it: Cas <em>has</em> to lean against him and kiss him until, with the press of a second finger, Dean gasps and bucks.  The warm, strong contractions of Dean’s orgasm from the inside is a revelation.  This, Cas realizes, is why Alphas are so willing to flaunt themselves before weaker and more vulnerable omegas.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next week, on Thursday, it snows.  The heavy, wet snowfall has been lurking inside increasingly grey clouds all week and finally arrives with such relentlessness that school is cancelled by eleven AM.  Cas finds himself standing at his locker, trying to remember that he should be pleased by the early dismissal.   After all, it is the first snow day of the winter season.</p><p>Dean walks by.  “Hey, I told Sammy I’d take him sledding.  You can come, if you want.  If you don’t, you know, have anything else going on.”</p><p>It takes Cas so long to process what Dean has just said that the other omega is nearly at the end of the hallway by the time he does.  He has to run to catch up, but Dean smiles when he does.  Sammy, Dean’s brother, is waiting by the exit to the Lower School, reading quietly under the overhang where all the little omegas and Alphas line up together in the morning. </p><p>“Whaddaya say, Sammy?  Park or sledding hill?”</p><p>“Sledding hill!  but I have half a page of math problems. " </p><p> Dean snorts. "So do 'em tomorrow. With snow like this, there won't be school. " </p><p>They sled all afternoon, the three of them.  At first it’s just Sammy, but then Dean climbs aboard the plastic trash-can lid they are using as a sled, “to show how it’s done.”  And then, he shouts that he can’t steer properly without more weight and that Cas is needed for ballast.  Cas tries to demur—he’s never been on a sled and it really doesn’t look like Dean’s lid is meant for three.  But Dean looks at him pleadingly, cold flushing his cheeks so his freckles are lost, snowflakes in his hair and somehow Cas finds himself wedged in front of Dean, eyes on the snowy slope.  The sled really is too small: Sam falls off when they are halfway down and the loss of his weight makes the sled careen into a snowbank.  Cas tumbles against Dean’s warm body and the cold is a shock, but they’re both laughing.  When they’ve finally calmed down, Dean pulls the sled from the snowbank with a rueful shake of his head that is so comical—he looks just like Father, disappointed by some wayward subordinate—that Cas starts laughing all over again. Sammy is standing halfway up the hill, waving down at them.  Dean holds out his hand to pull Cas out of the snow.  Cas takes it and can’t suppress a thrill at Dean’s strength when the other omega heaves him upright.  Dean had given his gloves to Sam—“wear ‘em over yours, you know you hate wet hands”—and his own fingers are red with cold.  So Cas doesn’t let go, just brushes the snow off and tucks Dean’s hand into his own pocket and they stumble up the hill toward Sam together.  </p><p>They work their way across the park, moving to new sledding spaces when they’ve kicked up too much snow, and by the time it is getting dark, Cas realizes that Dean has cleverly been maneuvering Sam closer and closer to home.   They are at the less-developed end of town, a run-down old industrial area, when Dean finally brushes the worst of the snow off Sam’s coat and drops the lid back on to one of the municipal trash cans.  “We’re almost home,” he says to Cas.  “Wanna come with?”</p><p>“Oh.  Uhm.  Better not. I should get home,” Cas offers, lamely.  He should probably thank them for inviting him and say he had a good time.  That’s what Mrs. Harvelle, the housekeeper, has taught him to say whenever anyone asks him over.  It’s not a phrase Cas has had a lot of need to practice—he doesn’t get too many invitations—and it feels wrong in his mouth.  Dean hadn’t made him feel like he’d been invited; Dean had made him feel like he belonged, like he’d always been a part of things. </p><p>“C’mon, you know you wanna.  Besides, you live all the way on the other side of school.  Let me get Sammy set up with some cocoa and I’ll walk you back.  I know a shortcut.”</p><p>Cas agrees immediately.  Not because of the shortcut: because he wants to spend as long as possible with Dean, belonging.</p><p>Dean and Sam and their father live above an old garage.  It doesn’t look like a <em>functioning</em> garage, but it is not so bad once you’re inside.  The furniture is all old and mismatched, but it is overstuffed and comfy and there’s no one to yell at them for tracking snow onto the cheap threadbare carpet or throwing their damp coats on the couch.   The kitchen stove doesn’t work, but there’s a camping stove on a workbench and Dean has cups of cocoa made by the time Sam has reappeared in the dry clothing that Dean insisted he change into.    </p><p>Cas waits primly in the cramped space between the only bedroom and the kitchen, which he supposes must be the living room.  He yelps when Dean presses shockingly cold fingers against the nape of his neck.  <em>Want to kiss that smirk right off him</em>, is the first thought that pops into his head when he squirms around to see Dean smiling at him fondly and ducking the damp jacket that Cas has grabbed to toss at him.  The thought itself is as much of a shock as the fingers:  he and Dean have been horsing around all day but not like <em>that</em>.  And once the thought occurs to him (that he wants to kiss Dean, that he could, that he <em>has</em>) he can’t seem to get rid of it.  Dean has caught the coat (quick reflexes, lithe body stretching across the small room), but when he goes to throw it back, he catches Cas’s eye and seems to realize what he’s thinking.  They stand like that, separated by a couch, both thinking how much more comfortable that couch would be than the lab bench.  Dean bites his lip, cocks his head.  His fingers dig into the balled-up jacket.  Cas feels the familiar flood of heat.</p><p> “Izzat my coat?” Sam asks, coming out from behind the curtain that serves as a bedroom door.  His voice is muffled because he’s pulling a sweatshirt over his head as he walks.</p><p>“Uhm.”  Dean has to swallow before he speaks and his voice sounds husky when he does.  He has to study the fabric in his hands.  “Guess so.  I’m, uh, gonna put it in the kitchen to dry.”</p><p>He comes back with two mugs and a juice-glass wrapped in a sock: “Hot chocolate,” he says shortly.  Dean hands one of the mugs to Cas. It must be the nice one because it still has a handle.  The room feels very small suddenly, even though Sam doesn’t take up much room.  They drink in silence and, when Dean sees Cas has finished,  he knocks back the last swallow of hot chocolate with a wince at the heat.</p><p>“I’m gonna walk Castiel home,” he tells Sam. “Dad’ll be back in a half-hour or so and I want that math homework done before he gets here.”</p><p>“Aww, Dean, you said we wouldn’t even have school tomorrow,” Sam whines but Dean just raises one eyebrow and Sam reaches for his bookbag.</p><p>Outside, walking along the</p><p>“You said your Dad would be coming home.”</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>“Is he home…a lot?”  Cas isn’t quite sure how to phrase the question he wants to ask.</p><p>Dean glances at him.  “Yeah, I guess.  I mean, he gets home pretty late so he doesn’t wake up until after Sammy n’me have left for school, but we see him in the evening sometimes.  Weekends.  Why?”</p><p>“I thought he was out of town?”</p><p>Dean shrugs.  “Every coupla weeks he has to go for a little bit.  For, uhm.  Work.” </p><p>“He could’ve signed the permission slip.”</p><p> “What?”</p><p>“The permission slip. The Sex Ed permission slip.  You said he didn’t sign it because he was out of town—”</p><p>“He was!” Dean interrupts.</p><p>“Yeah, okay, in September.  He could’ve signed in after that.  I mean, it would’ve been late, but you could’ve join a class if he signed it when he got home, in October or whatever.”</p><p>Now Dean looks befuddled.  “Uhm.  I guess so?”</p><p>“Why didn’t he?”</p><p>Dean stops walking.  His breath is visible in the cold air.  “I didn’t ask him to.  He came back after his research trip and the school had already put me in the detention room with the other kids who didn’t have permission—and that was you.  And I’d rather,”  he shrugs again, “I’d rather be with you, okay?  Than in any stupid class.”</p><p>“Do you want to come in?”  Cas asks, hoping Dean will say yes, although he’s not sure how he’d explain any of it to Father.  <em>This is the boy whose been teaching me about everything I’m missing in sex ed—don’t worry, he’s omega, too, so I can’t get…</em> </p><p>Dean looks for a moment like he’s going to say yes, but then he shakes his head.  “I gotta get back to Sammy.  Sometimes Dad is late and I don’t like to leave him alone long at night.”</p><p>“Oh.  Okay.”  The security lights outside the house are so bright, they wash out Dean’s freckles and turn his lips pale.  Cas wants to kiss him anyway.  Kiss him goodnight.  Especially since they won’t see each other Friday. </p><p>Like he is thinking the same thing, Dean say, “I could.  Tomorrow, maybe.  If that’s okay.  If you want.”</p><p>Cas’s eyes widen.  He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of that.  Father will be at work, and Mrs. Harvelle leaves at noon on Fridays.  “Yes!  Yes.  Come in the afternoon.  The—”  He realizes, having seen Dean’s home, that he shouldn’t say anything about the housekeeper’s half-day, so he settles for “I’d like that.”</p><p>The next day, schools are closed, skies are grey all morning, and Dean appears on the doorstep, snowflakes in his hair.  </p><p>“Could I, er, take your coat?” Cas asks, because that is what you say to guests.  But Dean shakes his head.  He looks around the foyer, slightly stunned, like he is just now realizing how different Cas’s circumstances are from his own.  Just as well, perhaps: his raggedy jacket would look ridiculous in the cedar-lined closet that is easily the size of that supply room at school.  Speaking of the supply room… “Do you want to see my room?”</p><p>It sounds childish when Cas says it that way, like he’s going to show off his collection of toy cars or something. Only Dean seems to understand what he means, as usual.  There’s just a hint of his usual smirk but it’s still there.  So Cas leads him through the foyer, past the music room and the breakfast room, up the stairs, down the hallway near the library.  His own bedroom is at the far end of the east wing.  Father had it done by a decorator. When Dean observes that it looks like a hotel, he means it as a compliment but Cas realizes that it does look more like a hotel than like a room where someone actually lives.  Maybe because he doesn’t live here.  When he thinks about <em>living</em>—doing what he wants, learning what he needs to know—he thinks about the detention room. </p><p>Without another word, Cas pulls off his sweater, and the shirt underneath it comes off, too.  He tugs at his belt, shoves his jeans over his hips, kicks them off.  Peels off his socks. He’s a little hard: just walking through his own house, knowing that Dean was following, has aroused him.  His room is cold—the house is always cold, draughty and enormous and empty—and he shivers standing in front of Dean in nothing but his boxers.  Then he pulls those down, too.  He stands there naked while Dean, fully clothed to his winter coat, stares at him.</p><p>“I’m cold,” Cas says simply.   “I’m too cold.”</p><p>Dean propels him across the bedroom, kissing him all the way, pulling off his own clothing haphazardly until they tumble into Cas’s bed, the too-large, lavishly pillowed bed that takes Mrs. Harvelle ten minutes to make up every morning.  They’re both naked by the time they reach it: skin against skin as they burrow under the matching blankets and the expensive duvet.</p><p>“Can I?”  Dean asks,  “Please, can I?”</p><p>And Cas is nodding and begging and splaying himself out on the bed for Dean’s mouth and Dean’s fingers and finally Dean’s delicious omega cock.</p><p>Cas moans when that cock finally enters him.  It is almost too much, which worries Cas, because of course Dean is not nearly as large as an Alpha would be.  Almost too much but, somehow, just when Cas is about to tell Dean he can’t, he wants to but he just… at that exact moment, Dean thumbs his nipple.  They’ve been so sensitive lately that Cas leans into the touch without even thinking, and that extra inch is all Dean needs.  He’s in.  Unlike the detention room, Cas doesn’t have to stay quiet, and he isn’t.  He gasps and whines. He knows Dean has told him it’s not proper fucking without an Alpha, but he thinks Dean must be wrong about that because nothing, nothing could feel as sweet and right as Dean being inside him.</p><p>Dean’s hips pump awkwardly, he’s muttering something under his breath—praise, compliments, Cassie so gorgeous—but Cas can’t hear him over his own pleading whines.  So good, so good, and it turns out that Cas does have a spot, after all.  At some point after his second orgasm, Cas feels Dean’s whole weigh shift onto him, grinding him into the mattress, groaning into his ear.  Cas goes willingly: he can feel warmth blooming inside him, pleasure tickling out to his fingertips and toes.  He’s floating on the sensation.  If it weren’t for Dean’s muscled weight against him, he’d float away. </p><p>Cas wants to lie there forever, with Dean above him, inside him.  His eyelids flutter closed and he lets himself imagine Dean filling him.  But all too soon, Dean squirms.</p><p>“Du’go…” Cas slurs, “stay’n me…”  He’s swamped by the most intense lassitude, beyond heat.  But Dean nuzzles a kiss behind his ear.</p><p>“I gotta, sweets,” his voice is breathless, “You’re pushing me out…so good, tight. Ain’t got no knot.”</p><p>“Dean? Nooo…” Cas moans, but he can feel it happening.  His ass contracting firm and rhythmic around Dean’s softening cock, slowly but inevitably pushing him out.</p><p>“Shhh,” soothes Dean.  He wraps one arms around Cas’s hips, tries to hold them together even as Cas knows he’s slipping away.  “F’I were Alpha, if I had a knot, I’d stay in you f’rever” Dean pants, “takin’ me so good, beautiful…”</p><p>Dean puts one gentle kiss right between Cas’s shoulderblades and then rolls off him.  “Fuck,” he chuckles, breathless, reaching out to pull Cas against him like he can’t manage even a moment without touching. </p><p>The kissing starts slow and easy, but before Cas knows it, he’s sprawled out on top of Dean.  “Wanna fuck me?” the other omega asks. “Can if you wanna,” he mumbles sleepily, as casually as if he is offering to let Cas copy his math homework in exchange for a peek at last night’s English essay.  And Cas does wanna.  His fantasies have never involved fucking…but then, until Dean, they’d never involved another omega.  And it’s not like he can get Dean pregnant, so what’s the harm?</p><p>Dean doesn’t turn over to offer his ass, like a well-trained omega should.  Although it’s not like Cas is an Alpha, so maybe those rules don’t matter? This way is nice, too, Cas decides: Dean hitching one leg over Cas’s hip, still kissing until the moment of penetration, when he arches back and bites his lip and his eyelids flutter as Cas pushes home. </p><p>It’s good.  Maybe not better than being fucked, but easier.  Cas has gotten hard, just rutting against Dean’s belly as they’d kissed, but he’s still omega.  He’ll never be really <em>big</em>, so after the first shock of Dean opening beneath him, he can just sink in.  Dean moans low in his throat until Cas bottoms out with a gasp.   </p><p>Dean’s fingers digs into Cas’s biceps, holding him still. Not that Cas wants to do anything except admire the flush painting Dean’s chest, rising over his cheekbones.  His green eyes are glassy. <em>Dozens</em>, Dean had said when Cas had asked if he’d kissed lots of Alphas.  An exaggeration, Cas knows, if not an outright lie.  But there’s one thing that is no lie at all. Cas doesn’t know much, but he doesn’t need sex ed to elucidate on the sweet tightness of Dean’s body: Cas is his first, Alpha or omega.  Slowly, Dean’s grip relaxes.  His hands smooth over Cas’s shoulders, down his back, to cup his ass.  “So move already,” Dean mutters.</p><p>Cas does.  Slowly at first, and then faster and faster, his hips snapping, Dean taking every thrust and pushing back into it.  Before long, Cas can feel liquid fire building at the base of his spine.  This would be the most important moment, if he were an Alpha: the moment he breeds up his omega.  But he’s not an Alpha, so this is just one of many important moments.  He won’t knot: he’ll just fill up Dean and then it will be Dean’s turn to pleasure him and then Cas will have another go, and that is how the will spend the whole snowy afternoon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They always take turns, which Cas figures is one advantage to their both being omegas.  However, at school, in the detention room, they quickly discover that Cas <em>cannot</em> stay quiet enough.  He tries, he means to, he has the best of intentions, but the feel of Dean’s cock opening him just undoes all his good resolutions.  After the first time, when Cas bites teethmarks into his arm trying to keep from moaning, Dean is the one fucked on the lab bench.  Cas usually sucks him off, beforehand, which gets him wet and open.  Dean is always tight (“half-Alpha,” he shrugs with mock regret when Cas points it out), but he also really is as much of a slut as his classmates had once suspected. One orgasm in and Dean is relaxed and eager to spread his trembling thighs.  He still gasps when Cas enters him, but then he leans up at fastens his lips around one of Cas’s perky nipples and that keeps him quiet.  There’s one more attempt—Cas dragging Dean into a broom closet one day when he is simply burning up with heat—but generally Cas plays the Alpha at school, and then Dean takes over in Cas’s own bed, which becomes their favorite after school location a little before Thanksgiving. By then, Dean’s Dad’s works from home more often and is able to mind Sam.  So Dean is free to come home with Cas for the two hours between the time Mrs. Harvelle leaves and the time Father comes home from the office.  In those two hours, in his empty house, Cas can be as loud as he likes: crooning when Dean first pushes in, moaning when he’s fully sheathed, yelping when he pins Cas down and pounds him hard as any Alpha. </p><p>Dean stays in him as long as he can bear it, knowing how Cas loves to be full.  But there’s no denying the inevitable: without a knot, Dean slips out sooner than Cas would like.   Cas can’t help the pleading noise that escapes him. </p><p>“Shh,”  Dean soothes after one particularly vigorous fucking.  Cas is still shaking with aftershocks, but Dean manages to pry a pillow from his grip. He rolls Cas onto his back and wedges the pillow under his hips.  Then, between kisses, he draws spirals in the cooling cum Cas has spilled all over his own belly and he spins stories about how someday an Alpha will keep him just like this, hips higher than his shoulders, until he’s good and pregnant.</p><p>It’s funny, Cas thinks, idly, when Dean’s wound down his story and turned to suckle lazily at Cas’s nipple.  They’d basically met over a conversation about how omegas get pregnant and now the idea seems to have wound its way into Dean’s fantasies.  He has to admit, the concept is not without its charms.  He thinks of the sweet thrill he’d felt that first morning after, when he’d stood in his bathroom and wondered just maybe…  Barely a week ago, walking home from school on a day when Dean had to hurry home to take care of Sammy, Cas had seen an omega who had graduated from his school just a year or two ago.  Ash was looking good, round and full, at least six months gone and squired around by a doting Alpha.  But Cas can’t think of a way to have an Alpha without giving up what he has with Dean.  And he’ll never give up Dean.</p><p>In the end, it is Dean who gives up Cas.  That’s the only solution Cas can think of when, two Fridays in a row, he sits through all of last period in the detention room alone.  The first week he thinks of at least five different reasons why Dean might not show up, everything ranging from Sammy getting hurt in PE to Dean <em>actually</em> getting stuck with detention for a real infraction.  But by the second week, there’s no getting around it:  Dean is avoiding him.  And he’s good at it.  Twice in the following week, Cas spies Dean—once at the end of the third omega hallway and once across the cafeteria—but both times, Dean moves out of eyesight before Cas can reach him.  For the first time in months, Cas pays attention to the omega gossip in his homeroom, steeling himself for the news that Dean has taken up with some knot-brained Alpha.  (Cas himself hasn’t thought about Alphas in weeks. It’s like his heat departed as quickly as it came.)</p><p>Only, for once, no one has anything to say about Dean Winchester.  It is almost like Dean is deliberately living under the radar.  He does his homework.  He starts wearing a school uniform (mostly: he still wears an old flannel shirt instead of a proper school blazer). He doesn’t come to the detention room on Fridays but since everyone has evidently forgotten that Cas and Dean have no last period class, no one else notices. </p><p>Cas is out of sorts all during winter break, sleeping badly, barely eating, thinking about Dean.  Then, just after the new semester starts, he gets a terrible stomach flu that has him throwing up every morning for a week.  It passes as quickly as it came and he insists upon returning to school, despite feeling queasy.  Father compliments him on his gumption; Cas decides not to tell why he is really eager to get back.  Another week without even a glimpse of Dean leaves Cas so weary and nauseated that he gives in.  Last period on Friday, he leaves the detention room and goes straight to the main office.  He doesn’t want to get Dean into trouble, but he has to know what he’s done to so offend the other boy. </p><p>“Last name, Winchester?”  the school secretary says, glancing up from her computer. “In fourth form?”</p><p>“Ninth,” Cas corrects.  “Dean Winchester. Not Sammy.”</p><p>“No, I have a Samuel listed here.  Not a Dean.”</p><p>Cas realizes he doesn’t even know Dean’s homeroom.  He doesn’t think they’d had more than two conversations about school since they’d first ended up sharing the detention room in September.  He’s trying to think of some other identifying information when the secretary stands up and goes to a filing cabinet in the corner.</p><p>“Oh! Yes, I remember now.  <em>Dean </em>Winchester,” the secretary snaps her fingers.  “He’s withdrawn.”</p><p>Cas feels his stomach lurch and there is a moment where he thinks he might vomit all over Mrs. Carruther’s desk. “Withdrawn?”</p><p>“Yes, two weeks ago.  Odd; the brother is still enrolled,” she flips a folder closed, checks the information printed on the label.  “Of course, here’s his birthday--I suppose he’s of an age, for an omega.”</p><p>Cas bristles.  He’s taken the Legal Diversity elective (in fact, he got an A) so he knows that omegas are now allowed to pursue full diplomas.  Even if Mr. Winchester had somehow arranged to have Dean settled with an Alpha, Dean could still continue his schooling right up until—</p><p>Cas makes it to the washroom at the end of the hall before spitting up bile.  There’s nothing else: he hadn’t felt like eating lunch, the very smell of the cafeteria made him sick, it was almost as bad as his heats had been.  Back when they’d been bad.  Months ago. </p><p>In a panic, Castiel spends the rest of his last period class in the library, where the card catalog tells him how to find a thick green textbook entitled <em>Complete Omega Biology, Third Edition. </em>The pieces line up as neatly as books on a shelf: the age at which an omega generally becomes fertile; the modern legislation that allows an omega, even one that has been settled with an Alpha, to stay in school until he became pregnant; the markers of such a pregnancy, including the occasional presence of brief periods morning sickness or sensitivities to strong smells and the cessation of heat.  Just for clarity, Cas cross-references the symptoms of heat: elevated libido, low-grade fever, vivid dreams, mammary sensitivity…  For the information that he really wants, he has to consult the index, which leads him to a footnote—<em>impregnation, omega-to-omega: uncommon, but not rare, especially in cases of extreme attraction.</em></p><p>That night, after his bath, Cas studies his body once again in the mirror, trying to compare it to what it had looked like those months ago.  He does not think his stomach is quite as flat; in fact, turned sideways, he can see hint of a curve.  His nipples are definitely pink and swollen, and this time he cannot blame Dean’s mouth.   He looks again in the full light of the next day.  By Sunday, he is certain.  By Monday, he is waiting at the Lower School gate when Sammy’s class is dismissed.</p><p>“Hi, Sam.”</p><p>“Hey, Cas,” Sam smiles, pleased that Cas has remembered he’d dropped the babyish variant of his nickname. (He doesn’t wonder how Cas had known, when in fact it had been something Dean had mentioned.  Rolled over in bed one afternoon and said, “guess what Sammy’s decided?”)</p><p>“Can I walk home with you?  Want to ask your brother something, and I haven’t seen him at school.”</p><p>Sam shrugs, equable. “Says he’s too old to go.  He and Dad had a fight over it, but Dad says he reckons Dean is old enough to know his own mind.”</p><p>Cas cannot imagine he will ever be old enough for Father to let him know himself, but he doesn’t say that.  Instead, he lets Sam tell him facts about spiders that he is going to include in his science fair report.</p><p>When they reach the decrepit garage, Sam sheds his backpack, drops it inside the stairwell that leads to the apartment above the old mechanic bays, and nods to the stairs.  “Dean says I can play outside until the streetlights come on as long as I don’t talk to strangers or touch dead things,” he recites the rules obediantly, “but you can go on up.”</p><p>Cas does.  He hasn’t thought of what to say to start the conversation but when Dean answers the door, he realizes he doesn’t have to say anything.</p><p>It’s more obvious on Dean. Maybe because he was stockier to begin with. His belly has a sweet, heavy roundness that is undeniable when Cas lets the door close behind him and pushes aside the plaid flannel of Dean's baggy old shirt to cup his palms there. Firm and full. He tucks the tip of his thumb into Dean’s navel and splays his fingers over the taut swollen skin.  Cas feels Dean 's whole body relax into the touch. Dean leans into him, presses a hesitant kiss to his cheek.  “Must’ve happened right away.  First time, maybe second.  I only figured it out a few weeks ago. Didn’t know how to tell you.”</p><p>That stolen Friday in Cas’s bedroom, snow falling outside.</p><p>“I thought we couldn’t.  Cause. Omegas.”  Cas feels too dizzy for complete sentence.  He knows now, of course.  He’d seen it printed in black and white.  He’d seen it in his own mirror.  But somehow seeing the reality in Dean’s body astonishes him all over. After the shock comes relief: Dean isn’t angry with him.  Dean isn’t angry at all, just surprised, like Cas.  And after the relief—Cas returns the kiss—arousal.  Dean is full of him, swelling with him.</p><p>Dean breaks the kiss and smiles, shame-faced.  He lets Cas follow him into the tiny kitchen. “Thought so, too.  But, well, guess I can.”</p><p>“<em>We</em> can.” Cas says.</p><p>Dean drops his eyes but Cas can see his shy smile. “You don’t have to say that.  Your Da—Father.  He’ll want to save you for some really important Alpha. And, and school. I mean, it’s one thing for me to breed early—I was no great shakes as a student, but you…  I’ll be fine: my Dad barely noticed and I’m basically raising Sammy as it is, so I’ll be okay.”</p><p>Cas blinks and steps back.  “No, I mean <em>we can</em>—both of us.  Carry and, and,” Cas is tugging at his clothing as he talks: his shirt, the school tie that he will never have to wear again.  He’s down to his undershirt before he sees Dean comprehend. “And breed,” he finishes, peeling off his school shirt.  His own belly is barely there, the gentle curve newer than Dean’s.  But the undershirt is new, too: Cas had never needed one before, but now his chest is ripe and soft.  </p><p>Dean knows his body intimately and sees the changes instantly.  He stares with wide green eyes. And then, gently, gently, he gathers Cas to him, dips his head to take one tender nipple against his tongue.  Cas shivers against him, the curve of Dean’s belly against his own.  </p><p>****</p><p>Cas’s belly is even larger a few months later at graduation —no surprise that Dean Winchester seeds big babies.  His billowing black gown would conceal some of it, if Cas weren’t constantly stroking the curve though the fabric. He’s got nothing he wants to hide.  Inside him, Dean’s baby kicks steadily through the commencement addresses: Cas finds it so arousing that his nipples pucker of their own accord, tightening invisibly under his gown, eager for the mouth waiting at home.  He can hear muttering when his name is called and he has to waddle up for his diploma.  Jealous muttering from the other omegas: how had Cas, who didn’t even take sex ed, get bred first? And deeper, speculative muttering from the Alphas, almost like they can smell how ripe he is. </p><p>It’s obvious what the Alphas are thinking, some of the omegas, too: that Cas is just a nice omega hole and a pretty face.  But that’s not all he is. He is both bred and breeder. Hadn't he been up all night, just last Tuesday, massaging Dean’s cramping back, kissing his sweaty hair off his forehead, coaxing him to pant and push as he brought Cas’s first-seeded son into the world? Birthing, he’d moaned so prettily: stoic Dean, who had always been quiet when Cas had fucked him in the detention room.</p><p>Cas is uncommonly aware of the appreciative audience and the babyweight in his hips as he sways across the stage to accept his diploma.  In the end, Dean had been too young and tight to go full-term. ("Half-Alpha?" Cas had teased during the long labor, making Dean groan and smile wearily between contractions.) Cas doesn’t think he has much longer to wait, himself.  He and Dean hadn’t knocked each other up on the same day, nothing so romantic, but they couldn’t be more than a few weeks apart.  Cas suspects it was the single, hasty rutting in the supply closet that had given him his belly. The dates would be about right and he remembers the scent of wood polish and dust as Dean had bucked into him and spilled, grunting “Yeah, yeah, take it all, Cassie.”  As, evidently, Castiel had.</p><p>The diploma says Cas has mastered <em>domestic arts</em>, which is the abbreviated degree granted to omegas who fall pregnant before graduation.  “A waste,” Father had sniffed, not even bothering to sound upset. “A waste of your time and my money. ”  He’d barely even looked up from his accounts, which had covered his desk and concealed the letterhead reporting Cas’s depravity.  (The school officials had feigned half-hearted disapproval, but they were obviously and smugly pleased, as they always were when one of their omegas proved his fertility by getting bred up before graduation). “Depravity and delinquency,” Father had sighed, reaching for the next ledger.</p><p>“Delightful and delicious,” Dean had countered afterwards, kissing circles onto Cas’s swelling stomach as they cuddled in on the large mattress in the little shed behind the garage that they have made their own.  Dean’s dad, as predicted, had been mildly surprised to see Dean arrive with a second pregnant omega in tow, but he hadn’t seemed particularly shocked.  “The hell’re they teaching you all at that fancy private school? ’Course omegas can breed each other,” he’d sniffed, “’specially if they try hard enough.  Everyone knows that!”</p>
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